The Essence of Susan Jones
by EllieK-21
Summary: What distinguishes one woman from the next? Severus Snape will attempt to discover the answer. There will be more than just potions brewing in the dungeons.
1. Prologue: Fall Back In Panic

* * *

**Prologue: Fall Back In Panic **

_ Time pulls your number,  
And you long to forget.  
You throw up your arms,  
But you feel such regret.  
I have their secrets,  
But they have mine.  
As the dark hours roll on,  
How do I confine  
The pain that is boundless?  
The memories of you  
Linger here in my madness  
As I go far from true._

_oooooooo__  
_

Susan Jones returned home from work at the usual time. Her job was repetitive; she was neither happy nor sad that the day was over. Susan Jones was twenty-seven, single, and lived by herself in a run-of-the-mill house, which was not in the city or in the country.

She was an average woman, unremarkable in every way. She was not fat, thin, tall or short. Susan Jones was ordinary.

No one noticed her from day to day. She wore her brown hair in a plait at the nape of her neck. She wore glasses that framed her lacklustre brown eyes. Her nose and mouth were commonplace, and her skin was an unblemished, medium tone.

She lived in relative anonymity. She had no friends and she had no enemies. She had no parents, siblings, or cousins; she had no relations of any sort. Susan Jones was simply ordinary--and very much alone.

How could anyone be so ordinary--one might say _unnaturally_ ordinary? The answer, of course, was that Susan Jones did not exist.

_oooooooo _

Staff meetings were an established annoyance Severus Snape had learned to endure each summer holiday shortly before the beginning of term. This meeting was to be no different from the nine previous ordeals.

Dumbledore began with his usual sickening cheer, but then he launched into a new topic. Perhaps Severus had been too hasty in his judgment. How easy it would have been to forget that the legendary child, Harry Potter, would be entering Hogwarts this year. Yes, Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, son of Lily and James Potter, Gryffindors extraordinaire, would be coming to Hogwarts at last. Snape felt his insides twist with an old bitterness. James Potter had been a cocky prat whom Severus had loathed. Without doubt, the son of James would be no better.

While Dumbledore droned on about lesson plans and sorting ceremonies, Snape's mind wandered. This was his tenth year of teaching Potions at Hogwarts. It had not taken him long to earn the title of Master, but it had been hard work. Studying Potions coupled with his Death Eater duties had not been easy on him, especially when he realised why The Dark Lord was so anxious to have a Potions Master at his disposal.

Originally, Snape had hoped to have the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, even though it was not his learned profession. Snape had wanted to prove his allegiance to Dumbledore by instructing the students how to defend themselves against the likes of Voldemort. Dumbledore, however, had other plans.

Severus Snape would never teach DADA.

The current DADA teacher was Quirrell. Snape glanced at the squirmy professor from across the table, just as Dumbledore announced the end of the meeting.

As the others began leaving the room, Dumbledore signalled to Snape. "Severus, might I have a word?"

"Of course, Headmaster."

Dumbledore waited until they were alone before he said, "I have a mission of the utmost importance. I need you to set out immediately."

"What must I do?" replied the Potions Master. _What is it this time? Run out of Swiss chocolates, old man? _

"I need you to go to America. A young woman there may be in danger. You must find her and bring her to Hogwarts."

"And the identity of this woman?" Snape asked sourly. Dumbledore's interest in peculiar types—choosing that wiggly, little fool Quirrell as DADA teacher, for instance—never ceased to annoy Severus. What sort of simpleton would Dumbledore expect him to tolerate next?

"Her name is Susan Jones. Owl post cannot reach her as only I know where she is. After you find her, you must not use magic unless it is absolutely necessary; there must be no magical trail to follow. You may Apparate to her locale but, after that, you must pose as a Muggle," Dumbledore instructed Snape.

"Am I to understand that this woman is not a witch?" Snape hissed. Idiotic wizards were one thing; idiotic Muggles were unimaginably worse. He could barely stomach Muggles even in small doses.

"Susan Jones is not a witch."

"This is most inconvenient!" Snape protested. "How will I deal with her?"

"Severus, try not to frighten her. She has been alone for quite some time and will no doubt think you are there to harm her. I want you to give her this." Dumbledore handed Snape a letter. "Only she will be able to open it." Dumbledore finished with his instructions, and Snape set off to find this _Susan Jones_.

_oooooooo _

Severus Snape remained irritated all the way to America. As he popped into the undeniably American town, he muttered darkly, "There is only one thing I despise more than Muggles: _American_ Muggles."

He began his quest for Jones by searching independently, but was forced at length to question the locals. The town was small. There were many individuals with the same last name. It seemed that they were all interrelated. Still, no one admitted to knowing the woman he sought. That was odd.

It took two full days before Snape finally found a man who knew of Susan Jones.

"Why do you want to know about her?" the man wondered. "She works in my office doing data processing, I think. Don't know what she does for sure, though."

"I am trying to locate her, Sir. Is she at work now?" Snape asked impatiently. There was no more time to squander. The task had taken far longer than anticipated and Snape had used up his last bit of patience earlier trying to ferret information from the American Muggle version of the Weasley clan.

The man shrugged. "Work's over, but some stay a little longer. If you wait outside that building over there you might catch her."

"Thank you. Good day, then." Snape did as instructed. After an hour, he noticed a most ordinary woman with dull, brown hair and spectacles. He had nearly overlooked the woman when she exited the building but, on closer inspection, Snape decided that she might be a possibility.

"Are you Miss Susan Jones?" Snape asked. Shock flickered in the woman's bark-coloured eyes.

Holding herself rigid, Susan shrank inwardly, drawing her thoughts and emotions deeper inside with practiced proficiency. _Magical man with the accent of home..._ "Who are you, and why are you looking for Miss Jones?" she countered. She awaited his response, noticing the furrow deepen on his forehead as his scowl intensified.

"Susan Jones may be in danger," replied Severus Snape.

_oooooooo _

_ So call the numbers,  
Random in your mind.  
Will they only remember  
The one you left behind?  
As it slowly consumed you  
And strangled your voice,  
Do you recall having  
Any other choice?_

_

* * *

_

A/N: I would like to thank my wonderful Beta,_ **S**_, for taking the time and energy to assist me in the recreation of Susan Jones. It has been an amazing learning experience. You know who you are, and I thank you graciously. A very special thanksto _K _and _L. _When I lose inspiration, you lift me up._  
_

* * *


	2. Chapter One: Enigma

* * *

_ The ways of the brilliant  
Are the ways of the lost..._

_ oooooooo_  


**Chapter One: Enigma**

"Why are you concerned about Miss Jones?" Susan inquired carefully.

"My _employer_ has asked me to locate her," Snape answered.

"And who might this employer be?"

"_Are_ you Miss Jones?" Snape pressed.

"Answer my question," she demanded, "and then I _may_ answer yours."

"His name is Dumbledore."

"Albus?" she whispered. "How do you know Albus?"

"I am a professor at the school. Here." Snape handed her the letter.

Susan eyed the envelope, snatched it, and tore it open. She took a few steps away from Snape before she dipped her head to read. When she looked up, she asked, "Snape is it?" He nodded. She said, "I will accompany you."

"Very well, Miss Jones. We leave in the morning," Snape said. "Where do you suggest I stay for the night?"

She started walking, and he followed. "Professor, did Albus tell you much about me?"

"No."

"Right, then," she replied. "We are going to my home for now--unless you would prefer to stay in the lodge on the other side of town?"

"Your home will be satisfactory, I assume. Is it much farther?"

"No, it's just a short walk. Professor, were you a student at the school where you now teach?"

"That is not relevant to the business at hand," Snape replied.

"As you say." _A cold, formal man--perfect for the job, except for that ridiculous attempt at a Muggle disguise: black boots, black, woollen trousers, and a black turtleneck under a black cable-knit jumper? He looks as if his Mum dressed him for sledding. For Merlin's sake, it is the end of August._

_oooooooo _

The house standing alone at the end of the lane was small and unobtrusive. It resembled all the others in the area, adding to the impression that a single blueprint had been imposed over all, yielding rows of the same house, varying in colour only from tan to white.

This one was tan. Thick, grey curtains covered the windows, blocking any view from the street. Wind chimes dangling from the overhang tinkled jarringly in the slight breeze as Snape and Susan climbed the three steps leading to the front door.

Snape's first reaction to the interior was relief; he was pleased not to be assaulted by the usual feminine predilection for frills—lacy, puffed cushions, gaudy floral fabrics, and the like. Simple. Spartan. The room was unimaginative as Miss Jones. His general impression of the interior was that it left much to be desired.

"Professor, you will be staying in the office. It's this way." She ushered him down the short, narrow hallway and into a room on the right.

The room was neat and tidy but cramped. It contained little more than a lumpy couch, a bookshelf with trashy novels, a shiny black piece of obviously unused exercise equipment and a desk littered with flotsam. After a cursory glance at the accommodations, Snape followed Susan into the kitchen.

Susan rummaged through the cabinets and refrigerator as Snape watched. "I haven't much," she told him. "I was planning to stop at the market, but, since I'm leaving, that seems pointless." She shook her head and pulled a box from the cupboard. "Um, do you like macaroni and cheese?"

He eyed the blue box in the woman's hand. "Am I to believe that there is actual cheese in that box?"

She read the label. "Oh, look here, it says 'just add milk and butter'. Milk plus butter plus orange powder equals cheese. Voilà!"

"How inventive."

"You might go into the other room, Professor. I seriously doubt I will need any help with this." She placed the box on the counter and showed Snape to the living room where she snapped on the TV and waved him to a chair. Some minutes later, she returned with an unsavoury supper of the stuff from the box, handing him a plate and joining him before the TV.

They ate in silence, staring at the screen. At last, bored to tears, Snape feigned fatigue, retiring for the night to the spare room.

_oooooooo _

Around midnight, Susan still could not sleep so she decided to check on her guest. Professor Snape was also awake. She found him wandering toward the kitchen.

"Would you care for some tea, Professor Snape?"

"That would be agreeable."

She waited for him to enter the kitchen. As she bustled about with kettle and teapot, she asked, "How are we travelling?"

Snape tapped a finger against his lips. "Do you own an automobile?"

"No, I do not."

"Then we will take a coach to the train station and, from there, a train to New York. We will use a Por…another means of conveyance to cross the pond."

Susan almost allowed the corners of her mouth to turn up. "I see," she replied evenly._ He had no idea—no idea at all._

"Tell me, Miss Jones, why would Dumbledore wish to find _you_?"

"There is no need for you to know the reason: Your only job is to get me to Albus."

Irked by her high-handed manner, Snape raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps I shall tell the Headmaster that I was unable to locate you. I doubt you would be missed if you were to disappear suddenly."

She snorted, and shook her head. "What is so amusing?" Snape inquired.

"You are, Professor. Isn't that exactly what is going to happen?"

"Pardon?"

"You were attempting, and rather poorly I might add, to intimidate me. But, I am already 'disappearing suddenly', am I not?"

"Do not try my patience, Miss Jones. It is in short supply."

Susan poured the tea. Handing him a cup, she asked, "How long have you been a teacher?"

"Longer than I would prefer to admit."

She studied him with inscrutable brown eyes. "Would you care to elaborate?"

"No, I would not."

"You are a miserable prat, aren't you?" Susan said suddenly.

How odd that sounded coming from an American! "You are both impertinent and in no position to criticise me," Snape shot back. Much to his amazement, she laughed heartily, and then said, "I am just as you say."

_She must be daft to laugh at my rebuke._ Snape stirred his tea. "I wish to leave at sunrise," he informed her. "Bring with you only necessities, as I shall not assist you in hauling your goods."

"I will be bringing only one thing." She rose from the table and left the kitchen, returning with a small, leather satchel. She held it up for his inspection.

"Hmm...I had supposed a woman would insist upon much more," Snape admitted.

"You were wrong, Professor. I have nothing of importance."

Severus Snape crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair, appraising Susan Jones. She was a pathetic creature, utterly pedestrian. He had never seen a more unattractive female. She seemed almost faceless to him. _ What is it about her that makes her so? She is not misshapen, not plump, not scrawny…I cannot find the word._

Susan considered the man before her. It had been years since she had seen a wizard, and even then, not one like this. _Black, he is very black._ Susan sipped her tea nonchalantly as the wizard watched her with his fathomless eyes.

Draining her cup, Susan announced, "It's getting late. Good night, Professor." She departed without a backward glance at the black wizard. _Many coloured are the shades of our emotions. I chose to remain neutral on such arbitrary notions. From red to blue is the spectrum of you. I chose to remain in the utter mundane. I could go in between shades of amber and green, while I watch as you skew from rosy to blue. I have already said my colour's far from red. I am nearer to plum, which is far more glum. But if I had my way and could wander and stray, I would go in between shades of amber and green. _

Sitting on her bed with eyes alert and fixed on her doorway, Susan recalled the events of the day. Her world was ripping open. _I suppose I must go; Albus would not have sent for me unless..._ What was she leaving behind? There was truly nothing of personal value in Susan's house. _Strange how six years of living can fit into a satchel--six years of_ existing_, more like. _

* * *

Dawn found Severus Snape and Susan Jones walking down the road to the bus station. Snape's companion was silent, a characteristic he wished some of his students would acquire. Only ten glorious days remained until the start of the term and it would probably take most of that time to reach Hogwarts. The Fates never allowed him to spend enough time alone, and neither did Albus. There was always one more errand, one more meeting, one more miserable class to teach; there was always an obstacle to the solitude for which Snape hungered. At least this morning he did not have to listen to Muggle drivel or circumvent her questions. Susan Jones was acquainted with Albus, which meant that she also knew of wizards, but exactly how far her knowledge extended was not clear. 

_I could be in my laboratory doing research at this very moment; instead, I am in a place that I would describe as some undetermined level of Hell. Which level I do not know as of yet, but I have little doubt that the coach I am preparing to board will usher me straight to its centre._ "Miss Jones, you should purchase the tickets," Snape told her.

With a mute nod, Susan proceeded to the counter, returning swiftly with the tickets. Wordlessly, she guided him to their bus, boarded the vehicle, and took a seat near the back. She chose the seat by the window. Turning her head to the right, she looked out at the station. Snape sat beside her and began to read a copy of the local Muggle newspaper.

After years of exile, Susan had learned to hold long conversations with herself inside her head. Some might think she was a bit mad; she believed herself to be more lucid than most. As the bus pulled from the station, she shut her eyes momentarily and mumbled, "I have a facsimile, an exact copy of me. Duplicate woman who is now in the ground. She was searching for something which will never be found."

_oooooooo _

Four hours later, the bus rolled into a rest stop. The air was thick and hot. Susan felt her hair instantly plaster the back of her neck.

Snape stood tall in the blazing heat while observing the Muggles and their interactions. _Fascinating._ He watched a boy insert a green bill, presumably Muggle money, into a slot in a large, red box which had the word 'refreshments' written on it. The boy pressed a button, and a bottle of dark liquid dropped into the opening near the bottom of the red box.

"Professor, you must be dying of heat in those black, woollen clothes of yours," Susan realised. Without waiting for his answer, she walked over to the red box and deposited several coins.

"I assure you that I am not dying, Madam," hissed Snape.

"Not yet," quipped Susan. "Would you like a soda?" As if to prove it was not poisoned, she opened the bottle in her hand and drank.

Snape curled his lip in disgust as he watched Susan gulp down the contents of the bottle. "If _that_," he pointed at the bottle, "is soda, then no, I would not. Is there any tea to be had?"

Susan grinned, pointing toward the machine. "Cold, sweet, _and_ with lemon." He shuddered. She shrugged and made her way back to the bus.

Their journey resumed. Hours of idleness, monotonous road, and confinement began to grate on Snape. _Ordinarily, I would relish time to myself, but this is too much. What in the bloody hell is that stench? If that corpulent wanker enters the lavatory one more time, I shall charm a cork to stopper his overactive rectum!_

To distract his mind from the odious lavatory, he focused on his companion. "It is now eleven o'clock, Miss Jones." Snape had rather hoped this news would bring about some sign of life from the woman, but he was disappointed. Though inane chatter was not his habit, he would be damned if he would be ignored! "Might I inquire as to what is so very enthralling outside the window? You have been staring out there since this excursion began," he grumbled.

Susan turned to him with a blank expression on her face. "I am unaccustomed to company. My apologies, Sir."

"Do you always ignore direct questions?" he snapped.

"Generally, people do not ask me direct questions."

_This is more complicated than extracting teeth from a Thestral in heat._ "Pay attention, Miss Jones, I am preparing to ask you a direct question," Snape began in a dangerous tone. Susan arched her eyebrow, letting Snape know he had her attention. "Have you ever been evaluated for mental stability?"

Laughter began in the pit of her stomach then erupted in a cacophony of wails, causing many heads to turn in their direction.

"Should I decipher this display as a _yes_ or a _no_?"

"Professor Snape," Susan choked out, "I had no idea that you had a sense of humour. Oh, lord...that was an excellent question." She continued to chuckle, wiping the tears from her eyes. "The answer is _no_, but thank you for asking."

Snape shook his head. He tried another subject. "Miss Jones, what is 'electronic filing'?"

"Would you like a dictionary definition, or would you rather know my personal characterisation?" Snape narrowed his eyes at her. "I'll give you mine: Electronic filing is a task employers use to rip the very life force from their most intelligent employees, effectively creating an environment of boredom and turning the brains of said employees into vestigial organs."

Speechless. The woman had rendered him speechless.

"I will miss my job so very much," she moaned theatrically.

"I may have underestimated you, Miss Jones," Snape decided. "I see now that your fondness for acting the deaf mute is not due to a lack of intelligence, but is, instead, an act of extreme courtesy."

"Underestimations are the start of great things, Professor. Miscalculations, on the other hand, can be fatal."

"You are quite the conversationalist," he allowed.

"Not really. I think I am going to try to get some rest now, Professor."

"Excellent idea."

* * *

Day two... 

Screech, bang, sputter, jerk, jerk...phut.

The bus broke down near Nashville shortly after six in the morning. The passengers and their luggage were unceremoniously removed and deposited at a rest station located off Interstate 40. It would take four hours for another bus to replace the one that had died.

"Nashville has an airport, Professor. We could ditch the bus and take a plane," Susan suggested.

"I do not fly in giant tin cans, Miss Jones," Snape said firmly. "Aren't there any trains on this god-forsaken continent?"

"Yes, but not many that would suit our purposes," she informed him.

Neither Susan nor Severus had slept during the night, and the combination of exhaustion, foul odours from the bus' chemical toilet, unpalatable meals, and being abandoned on the roadside was fraying the already overtaxed nerves of the Potions master. "This is abominable!" he huffed.

He was a mere step from homicide in Susan's opinion, not that _she_ wasn't ready to wield a whip to punish the idiots responsible for the demise of the bus, but she remained superficially serene. Susan found a phone book and perused the section that listed hotels in the area.

"There is a hotel not too far away. I know I could use a nap and a nice, hot shower. What do you say, Professor?"

"Define 'not too far away'," he said. "Will it be a stroll or an expedition?"

Susan cracked a grin. _Expedition? Are we on the Serengeti Plain following migrating giraffes?_ "I suppose that depends. If we could catch a ride with someone, it would take only ten minutes."

"Hitchhike? I think not."

"Then, it will take a while. I wonder if taxis collect passengers from rest stations?" Susan thumbed through the phone book once again, finding a multitude of options. After making several phone calls, the fruits of her labour became sweet. "You will be pleased to know that we have transportation. According to six different companies, it is highly unorthodox to pick up passengers from a highway rest area, but one company agreed to make an exception."

"A taxi could take us the remainder of the way, could it not?" Snape asked.

"All the way to New York? Have you any idea how expensive that would be? No cab driver in his right mind would agree to take someone that far, even if his company would allow it."

"Point taken."

_oooooooo _

The hotel lobby was decorated in tones of peach and teal. Snape was certain the cretin who decorated the place had been colour-blind or had a dismal sense of humour. Their room was clean enough and, according to Miss Jones, it had all the major requirements, which consisted of two beds and a bathroom. Unlike the lobby, the room was unobjectionable; the bed linens and draperies were cream, while the walls were taupe and the carpet was brown.

Susan sank onto her bed and fell asleep instantly. Snape wanted to bathe. Contrary to popular belief, he had impeccable hygiene, not that that helped his perpetually oily skin and hair. He had tried many ways to calm his overactive sebaceous glands without success. Though he had used a Muggle shower before, usually while he was on one of Dumbledore's errands, he found them to be far less enjoyable than a relaxing bath. _Showers serve their purpose but nothing more,_ he thought regretfully.

Snape joined his companion in the bedroom, deciding to sleep above the covers of his bed so he would not need to remove his boots. Glancing over at Susan Jones, he thought, _At least she doesn't snore._ Against his better judgment, he closed his eyes and surrendered to exhaustion, finding sleep swiftly.

_oooooooo _

Susan woke Snape after she showered. It was much like poking a sleeping bear with a stick, and she was greeted by having his thick, black wand aimed directly between her eyes. Recovering quickly from his rude awakening, Snape replaced his wand in the waistband of his pants and asked, "What time is it?"

"It is midnight, Professor Snape. We slept the entire day. I thought you might be hungry."

"You are correct," he grumbled.

"We could order room service or we could go down to the snack bar. We have to decide immediately because the kitchen closes at one," she informed him.

"The former is preferable."

She read the menu aloud and then called the kitchen with their selections. "The food will be here in twenty minutes. If you are bored, you can watch the television. It does help to pass the time."

He sniffed sceptically. Susan laughed and then handed him the remote.

"I assume the button marked 'on' will start the machine," Snape said.

"How very astute you are, Sir."

He pressed the button cautiously. "What is the purpose of this?" he wondered, staring at the screen.

"That is an infomercial. Trust me, change the channel."

Snape was just about to turn the TV off when he happened upon something of interest. It was the beginning of _The Exorcist_.

"I haven't seen it, but I have heard that film it is entertaining," Susan remarked. "It is a horror film."

"Horror, eh?" Snape jeered. "We shall see."

_oooooooo _

After the end of the film, Snape decided to try his hand at conversation with the woman. "Was the film to your liking?" he asked cordially.

She nodded. "It was competently done. What was your opinion?"

"I am certain that the lead girl from the film was one of my students," he replied dryly.

Susan chuckled. "I have never cared much for children. They do make wonderfully evil creatures on film, though."

"As they do in life."

"And, there were no commercials," Susan added. "I guess we should decide how we go on from here. I would really like to avoid another bus."

"I agree." Snape thought a moment. _If I create a Portkey from here, it will leave a magical trail. I could Apparate with the woman in tow but, again, that would leave a trail, and she may not be ready for such an unconventional method of travel. Dumbledore had very specific instructions about the use of magic: no magic until we are in New York._ "Due to our circumstances, we will have to continue by coach."

"Must we?" Susan asked, frowning. _NO! I could rent a car, but I haven't driven in over a decade. He won't fly—and, anyway, airport security is tight these days. Other means of transportation are probably out of the question...drat!_ "The bus it is, I guess."

"May the gods help us," Snape said darkly.

* * *

Day three... 

The journey was a long one. It took twenty hours to reach New York via coach. During that time, Snape had been unaccountably surprised by the intelligence of Miss Jones. They had had very lively and in-depth discussions. He was almost sorry their travels together were ending. However, when the vehicle stopped outside the train station, Snape and Susan could not disembark fast enough, as they had both had their fill of public transportation.

Snape took Susan by the elbow and guided her into an empty alcove, where only the painted eyes from the graffiti were watching.

"Miss Jones," instructed Snape, "remain here while I survey the area. Do not wander."

"I'm not going anywhere in this city alone, I assure you."

She watched Snape walk around the corner, noting how twitchy he was when he walked quickly. She turned her attention to the train station and then to a man in worn, patched clothing sleeping on a distant bench. _ Trains…they carry so many people, so many lives, so many stories. The people have one thing in common: they walk through the train station. Sometimes they stop to look at graffiti or the broken windows in the ceiling. Occasionally, the drunk will sleep on the benches. When the night is over and the next train comes, the train station is soon forgotten. But another day passes by and the train will surely be on time..._

"Miss Jones, this way," she heard Snape call out.

She shook her head and then went to him. "Where is the Portkey?" Susan asked.

Snape was taken aback. "You know what they are?"

"I am not ignorant of your world, Professor," she replied.

"Over there," he told her, pointing to an old soda can. _She_ does _know Dumbledore, after all._

"Why didn't we just take a Portkey from my house?"

"Trails, Miss Jones. There are other wizards in New York so one more bit of magic will not be suspicious."

"How did you get to Nebraska, then?" She asked.

"I Apparated, and on that occasion, Dumbledore was able to mask my trail. Since he is unaware of our exact time of departure, he cannot mask the return trail sufficiently. Now, unless you have any objections, kindly take hold of this," he prompted impatiently.

They grasped the empty soda can. Before the spinning began, Snape offered genuinely, "It has been a pleasure conversing with you, Miss Jones."

"Likewise, Professor Snape."

_oooooooo _

In a matter of moments, they were in Snape's office. While Susan took a seat to recover from the instantaneous journey, Snape tossed a handful of Floo Powder into his office fire and called for the Headmaster.

Less than a minute later, Albus Dumbledore stepped from the fire into the dungeon office. Susan stood up. "Albus!" She cried happily, reaching toward the elderly wizard.

"So good to see you, my dear," Dumbledore said, taking her hands in his. "Was your trip pleasant?"

"Yes, thank you. Professor Snape was most pleasant."

Clearly surprised by her reply, Dumbledore turned questioning eyes to Snape. "Miss Jones did not cause me any unnecessary irritation," Snape offered honestly.

Dumbledore returned his attention to Susan. "How long have you been like this?" he asked gently.

"Five and one-half years," she replied. "I had to make the changes. The other form was attracting too much attention."

Snape struggled to conceal his astonishment. _What_ other_ form?_

_

* * *

_

A/N: Thank you, **_S_**, my wonderful beta!_  
_

* * *


	3. Chapter Two: Half Truths

* * *

**Chapter Two: Half Truths **

Dumbledore and Susan continued to speak, neither finishing a statement. Dumbledore would begin to ask a question only to have Susan answer before the question was complete. This strange form of communication continued for some time.

Through the jumble of words, Severus Snape became aware of three uncomfortable facts. For one, Susan alluded to more than one form. She reeked of Muggle but, if she had another form, she was magical in some way. For another, her American accent had disappeared. She sounded authentically British, though there was a faint trace of some exotic accent. The third thing Snape realised was that he had been hoodwinked, and he didn't like that fact one bit.

Dumbledore interrupted Snape's deductions. "Severus, I do not want anyone to know Susan is here just yet. Might she stay with you in your office for a few hours?"

"If you think it is necessary," Snape replied shortly. She--_they_, if you included Dumbledore--had made a fool of him. He wasn't sure yet how he should react to this knowledge.

"Very, good. Now, my dear," Dumbledore said warmly to Susan, "are you ready?"

"Ready for what?"

"I assumed you would like to--"

"No, I'm fine for now," Susan assured him.

Dumbledore replied, "As you wish. I understand that it has been a tiring and unexpected journey." Susan nodded, and Dumbledore continued, "I want you to feel welcome here at Hogwarts for the indefinite future."

"Thank you. I am sure I will be quite comfortable."

"The students will arrive tomorrow. Perhaps you could assist the staff?" suggested Dumbledore.

"What would I do? I'm afraid I wouldn't be of much help to anyone. I wasn't able to finish university, you know." Susan removed her spectacles and wiped the lenses with the tail of her shirt. "I would prefer not to have direct contact with the students because children and I are like oil and water."

Snape snorted at that last remark. "Headmaster, I hate to cut short this reunion," he said, "but I have projects that require my attention."

It was nearly noon in Scotland and Snape was reacting to the time change. He felt tense and overactive. It appeared that the trip had the opposite effect on Miss Jones, however. She looked exhausted.

"Of course, Severus. You must be anxious to resume your research. I shall leave you to it." Dumbledore began to walk to the door, and then he turned and added, "Susan, by this evening, your quarters will be ready. I had hoped your room would be waiting for you, but there was a bit of a mishap with one of the house-elves."

Susan did not answer, responding only with a thin smile while she replaced her spectacles. Snape opened the door for Dumbledore, staring at Susan in annoyance. When the heavy, wooden door closed behind the old wizard, Snape said flatly, "You deceived me."

She shrugged. "It was necessary."

"What are you concealing?" he pressed.

"I'm not willing to discuss it." Susan glanced about the room. "Where would you have me sit?"

Snape scowled, frustrated by her cool rebuff. "There," he informed her harshly, pointing to a couch. "I expect you to keep silent and to stay far away from my cauldrons!"

"Of course," she answered without rancour.

Still bristling, Snape said, "Happy?"

"Ecstatic," Susan mumbled. _Happy? Happy is a relative term for me--a distant relation. _ She sat on the couch and watched Snape cross to the other side of the room. He lit a flame beneath a large cauldron. The liquid in the cauldron began to bubble as the professor added the ingredients. Susan closed her eyes.

Severus Snape's mood did not improve as he resumed his regular duties, which included brewing a particularly nasty potion. The Wolfsbane Potion had a rancid smell that was surpassed only by its putrid flavour. Worse still was its gelatinous consistency. Snape could not decide which reason for brewing the potion caused him more grief: the fact that the potion reeked, or the fact that he was brewing it for a man he despised.

Remus Lupin, former friend of dead James Potter and the criminal Sirius Black, was a haggard snip of a wizard for whom Dumbledore had a soft spot in his heart. Dumbledore was the deciding factor in the equation. Snape brewed the potion because Dumbledore asked him to do so. Snape did not particularly care if the werewolf snacked on the substandard members of the magical community daft enough to allow themselves to become wolf fodder. No, this task was not one of nobility, but of duty.

Susan had fallen asleep. She mumbled something, causing Snape to cast a glance in her direction, thinking that _there_ was a creature in need of a potion. _I doubt even my strongest lust tonic would bring any suitor her way--not without the supplement of a huge amount of Firewhisky._ Snape shook his head and turned his attention back to the potion before him, adding the last ingredient, then extinguishing the flames beneath the cauldron. _Luckily, I am blessed with the foresight to brew this monstrosity a month ahead of time._

The fifth shelf of Snape's private storage cabinet was home to Lupin's potion. There sat this month's dose, right beside an odd collection of experimental concoctions the Potions master had had to abandon in order to track down Miss Jones in Nebraska. When the new batch had sufficiently cooled, he ladled it into three, medium-sized flasks, labelled them, and carried them to the shelf, all the while using caution not to disturb the slumbering Susan.

Behind the assortment of potions long forgotten was a bottle never forgotten: Snape's favourite vintage of red wine. Nimble fingers encouraged the wine bottle from its resting place and, soon enough, the liquid within found its way to a glass and then to the lips of an overtaxed man. Severus sighed as he felt the welcome fluid warmth trickle down his throat. _Will I ever be free to do as I wish, or shall I remain an indentured servant for the rest of my days?_

* * *

Later that afternoon, Susan awoke to find Snape leaning over her. "I must go out for a time--to Hogsmeade," the Potions master told her. "Headmaster has asked that I take you with me." 

"I would prefer to stay here," Susan replied. "I really have no reason to go into the village."

"Be that as it may, Headmaster believes you should have some time away from the dungeons. I cannot fathom why. It would be more efficient for me to run this errand alone. And, I was of the impression that you were to be kept from the public--that you may be in some sort of peril and need to be hidden."

"No one will know me," Susan said absently. Snape frowned at her, but she was staring off to the right. "I will go with you."

"Fine," Snape muttered. "When we return, your own rooms will be prepared."

Susan's face remained expressionless.

_oooooooo _

For speed and convenience, Snape used a Portkey to reach their destination. The unlikely duo appeared in a back room at the Hog's Head. The seamy pub was where Severus had arranged to meet Remus Lupin so the potion could be delivered without arousing suspicion. Lupin was not easily spotted in the pub due to the fact that nearly all the patrons wore shabby robes. After surveying the crowd for a moment, Severus proceeded to a table where Lupin sat alone.

It happened in slow motion for Susan. Severus called out his name. Lupin turned to face them, and Susan stopped dead in mid-stride.

"Good afternoon, Professor Snape," Lupin said quietly.

"Lupin," Severus grumbled, by way of greeting.

Susan did not move.

Lupin noticed Susan standing behind Snape. "Hello, Madam, I do not believe I have had the pleasure."

"No need for pleasantries. Take this," Snape thrust the flask at Lupin, "and see that you drink it on time. The chickens in Mr. Alabaster's coop disappeared mysteriously around this time last month."

Remus chuckled and replied, "You know that isn't how it works, Severus. But, thank you for the report on local livestock." Remus looked again at Susan, who was now studying the wall above Lupin's head.

Snape arched his eyebrow and turned his head to glance at Miss Jones. "We are ready to leave," he told her. Silently, she turned and headed toward the door. Snape was about to follow when Lupin said, "Strange young lady. Your girlfriend?"

"That was Susan Jones and she is most certainly _not_ my girlfriend." The Potions master winced when he uttered the words "my girlfriend". "Lest you insult me further, I shall take my leave." Snape turned on his heel.

_oooooooo _

Susan was waiting for him just outside the door, seemingly lost in thought. _That was gutting. It worked, just as always, but I thought for a moment..._

"Was there a reason for your abrupt departure? Or, do you simply like to have men running after you?" Snape asked acidly.

She began to walk toward Hogwarts, making no reply.

_Why does her silence irk me so?_ Snape wondered. "The man we just met with is a werewolf," he mentioned aloud to shock her.

Nothing.

"He enjoys eating women, mostly. But his tastes, as of late, have expanded to children. Babies, in particular."

Nothing.

"Jones!" bellowed Snape. "Are you deaf?"

Unruffled, Susan replied, "No, I am not deaf. I lost interest in fairy tales when I was about six, though I still find the one about the old lady who lived in a shoe somewhat amusing. That woman was a prime candidate for enforced sterilisation."

Now Snape was the one who was silent.

"Then, there were nursery rhymes. Remember the one about Jack Sprat, who could eat no fat and his wife who could eat no lean? I always wondered why the fattest women seem to end up with the boniest men," Susan went on. "Oh, and how could I forget Hansel and Gretel? The witch should have incinerated those little bastards in the oven. How dare they eat her house, even if it was made of gingerbread!"

"You are a bit _touched_, aren't you?" Snape observed.

Ignoring this, Susan added, "My all-time favourite tale is Cinderella."

"That one I find repulsive," Snape noted.

"I like it because the prince doesn't recognise her without her finery. He must have been terribly blind and materialistic not to notice. Plus, Cinderella must have been one tough little harpy to dance in shoes made of glass."

"Ha," Snape barked. Susan took that to be some sort of laugh.

"Did you ever read Muggle comics, Professor?"

"I have confiscated a few from Muggle-born students."

"Superman?"

"What are you going on about? I find it difficult to follow random thoughts, Miss Jones."

"Oh, right...sorry. Superman is similar to Cinderella."

"How so?"

Susan smiled and replied, "You may recall that Cinderella's prince didn't recognise her when she was in rags." Snape nodded. "Well, the only thing that kept Clark Kent from being recognised as Superman was his spectacles. How ridiculous! Superman and Kent looked exactly the same, yet a pair of spectacles fooled all of Metropolis."

"Hmm. I suppose that was inane," Snape allowed.

Susan stopped and removed her spectacles. "Do you recognise me?" she asked with a silly grin on her face.

Snape rolled his eyes. "You are unmistakable, Jones."

"Don't you mean 'unremarkable', Professor?"

"That, as well," he admitted, dismissing the matter. Looking up the lane he remembered, "I need to visit this shop to gather some ingredients for a potion." He pointed to an old building whose front window displayed jars of animal parts suspended in liquids of various colours. "Won't be long. Wait here."

Susan leaned on the side of the building and watched the witches and wizards strolling up and down the street. Hogsmeade was much as she had expected it to be, except for the meeting with Lupin. _I wonder what other surprises await me?_

A family with three small children passed. The youngest child started crying so his mother picked him up to comfort him. Susan shuddered, renewing her resolve never to be a mother.

She pushed away from the building and turned to face the opposite direction. In the distance, Hogwarts was silhouetted against the golden glow of the setting sun. Her mind drifted._ Images of her leave my brain and thoughts astir, sleep and dreams and memories blur. One and one and one make three; singularity, duality, in triplicate is me. From carbon copy to fabricated flaw, I am the one whom Remus Lupin saw._

More than Susan's mind had drifted. When Snape spoke to her, she realised she was standing in the lane. "It is time to return for supper," Snape informed her.

"We should not be late," Susan agreed meekly.

With the aid of the Portkey, the Potions master and the Susan returned to Hogwarts.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was a man who always kept his promises--and his secrets. As he had promised, Susan's rooms were ready when she and Snape returned from Hogsmeade. The rooms were located in the dungeons, just down the hall from Snape's. Dumbledore had chosen to place her in the dungeons for a specific a reason: only the Slytherins would be there regularly. Potions classes were held in a nearby classroom, but students rarely lingered after class. In this situation, Miss Jones would have the necessary amount of privacy. 

Susan expected only a tiny bedroom but she had received much more than that. She had a living area with a large desk that faced several shelves of books, including many magical texts. She had used many of those books years ago when she was a student. The subtle hint was taken and Susan knew she could spend hours, days, and possibly years brushing up on all that she had forgotten while she was away, hiding from her past.

Tomorrow the students would arrive for the new school year, a fact that bothered Miss Jones. She and Albus had reached an agreement during supper: Susan would assist the faculty when they were overburdened or when they needed an assistant for a project. She would grade papers or scrub cauldrons, as necessary. Her duties would be light, allowing her ample time to reacquaint herself with the magical world.

After looking around her new accommodations, Susan decided to take advantage of the last student-free night in the castle. She made her way out of the dungeons to wander the halls.

_oooooooo _

The onslaught of dunderheads would begin tomorrow, Snape noted sourly, leaving him just one night to himself. He decided to read the newest edition of _Moste Potente Potions_, to see if some of the side notes had been amended.

As he read, he recalled his earlier conversation with Miss Jones._Hmm... Clark Kent should have used a Polyjuice Potion instead of the spectacles. Spectacles. Doesn't she know that there are far more attractive options these days?_

He had reached the point where he was too tired to read, even too tired to sleep. Restless, Snape decided to go for a walk. As he passed by Susan's door, he nearly considered asking her to join him. _Why? Haven't I had enough of her?_ He walked faster, up the stairs and into the main corridor.

He made his way to the Great Hall, which was deserted. Severus paced around the perimeter of the room, wondering how many new students would be sorted into Slytherin, and how many of those Slytherins would be children of his former schoolmates or Death Eaters.

He knew of one. Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, would be arriving this year. He already knew the boy from dining at the Malfoys' home over the years and had little doubt that Draco would become an archetypal Slytherin.

Then there was Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived. Destined to be a Gryffindor from conception, to Severus Harry Potter would forever be The-Twit-Who-Was-Damned-Lucky-Not-To-Have-Been-Vaporised. Snape was not looking forward to meeting James Potter's offspring.

He was all too familiar with the school and its grounds, having spent most of his life here, as a student, a refugee and, currently, as a teacher. The castle had not yet revealed all of its secrets, though. Every so often Snape would come upon a door or hallway that he had not noticed previously.

A shuffling noise was coming from one of those unfamiliar corridors. Snape drew his wand. He waited in the shadows to see what would emerge.

"You were told not to wander about the castle, Miss Jones!" Snape bellowed. He clenched his teeth and, before he jinxed her just for the hell of it, he placed his wand back in his robe.

"If Dumbledore allowed me to go to Hogsmeade, what harm could there possibly be in my roaming the castle?" Susan reasoned.

"There might be any number of dangers."

She sighed. "I shall return to my rooms, then. Goodnight, Professor Snape."

"You should not be alone. I was just on my way to the library and you will accompany me."

"Great minds think alike. That is where I was heading," Susan told him.

Snape detected no sarcasm in her words, but refused to believe the woman had complimented him, even in that round-about way. He turned and marched stiffly in the direction of the library, not looking to see if she would follow, for he knew she would.

At this time of night, the library had an eerie emptiness. Undeterred, Susan walked over to a shelf and pulled out a dusty, grey book entitled, _ Muggle Theories on the Existence of Magic_. She shook her head as she flipped through the pages.

Snape observed the woman. _She would pick that one. _ He began to read over her shoulder. "Have you an interest in this?" she asked, still reading.

"I highly doubt it. Perhaps I should make a better suggestion," he offered.

She snorted out a staccato laugh. _I could tell you what would be a better suggestion--a bloody great shag! I haven't had one of those in half a decade…more than half a decade. And from the looks of you, you haven't, either. Pity that my taste in men eliminates you, Snape. I would love to be serviced by a well-endowed, stallion of a man._ "I was just thinking that this book is rubbish," Susan explained.

"I concur," Snape admitted.

"What have you there?" She turned to looking down at the small, purple book in his hands.

"It is a book on Glamours," he informed her. "Some of the incantations in this volume are quite complicated and not easily spotted, when properly used."

"Interesting. May I see it for a moment?"

He handed it to her, watching her closely as she read the contents page. She kept her face perfectly placid. _I can almost hear your thoughts, Professor Snape. You think you have me all figured out, don't you?_

"Miss Jones, if I could kindly have that back," he requested, removing the book from her grip. Susan handed him the volume, shelving the grey book she had taken. "There is nothing here that interests me right now, Professor Snape."

"I take it we've finished with the library, then. After I escort you back to your rooms, I shall bid you good night." He turned to leave the library. He could hear her lighter footfalls behind him.

"Professor Snape," Susan called, "do you have anything in your rooms for a headache?"

Without thinking, he snapped, "I am not a chemist or a nursemaid, Miss Jones. We have a fully stocked infirmary for minor ailments." _Severus, you know very well that you have something. Why are you acting the fool?_ He stopped, telling her, "I shall make an exception this time--but only this once."

"Thank you."

_oooooooo _

After an uncomfortably silent walk back to his office, Snape gave Susan the potion. Susan stared at the vial containing the medication for a full minute before raising it to her lips. When he tried to hurry her along, encouraging her to drink the damned potion, she replied sharply, _"Spare me the theatrics, Professor!"_

Snape was taken aback. While they'd been travelling, in Hogsmeade, in the library and now, in his rooms, he'd watched an odd change come over her. _It is as if she has two persons living inside her: one aloof and clever, the other bold and dodgy. _ Tomorrow, when he was rested, Severus Snape resolved to plumb the depths of the mystery surrounding Susan Jones.

* * *

A/N: Praise to my lovely beta, **_S_**. Cheers to those who read and review.

* * *


	4. Chapter Three: Enough

**Chapter Three: Enough**

_Many a colour may shade an emotion.  
I'm in the neutral, staying grey with devotion.  
Black fades to charcoal, fades to grey, then to white,  
As I slowly surrender to the shadow of my plight.  
But if I had my way and could wander and stray,  
I would go in between shades of amber and green. _

_oooooooo_

Snape opened his eyes and looked across his private chambers, his eyes settling on his office doors. _The first of September. _With a groan of displeasure, he rolled out of bed and made his way to the bath. The cold, smooth stone floor was a sharp contrast to the plush rug that adorned his bedroom. That change was enough to jolt him completely awake.

A swift, inarticulate warming spell eased the chill on his feet as he drew himself a bath. His nightshirt dropped to the ground, then he stepped into the tub, enjoying the sting of hot water on his chilled flesh.

_Susan Jones..._ He began to devise a plan for research. He could always begin with Albus. After all, the old wizard had chosen to send him half way across the world to retrieve the woman. Surely, this entitled him to _some_ bit of information regarding her background.

_Other bloody form--what, in the name of Merlin, was she alluding to?_

It could mean that she was some sort of changeling, perhaps. Severus Snape had known a few changelings and dismissed the idea that Susan Jones was one of them. There was always something about a changeling that remained _unchanged_ when they shifted. Usually, it was the colouring of their skin; changelings had a hint of their true colour about their skin, be it pinkish or bluish. Sometimes it was in the hair or the eyes, that abnormally inhuman colouring.

Susan was normal. There was not a hint of abnormality about her. That, in itself, was abnormal.

_Metamorphmagus?_

That was a very rare trait. Snape knew of only one metamorphmagus, Nymphadora Tonks. He made a mental note to check for other known metamorphmagi.

_That explanation seems far too simple. Albus told me that Susan Jones is not a witch. That rules out the Metamorphmagus hypothesis. Or, does it?_

Snape had no more time to think about Miss Jones today. The students were arriving, and he had preparations to make. Still, the mystery galled him. All he wanted was more time to figure out what in the bloody hell was going on.

_Susan Jones--who the hell is the chit?_

_oooooooo_

Susan Jones awoke with a start on September first. The gravity of her situation was beginning to bear down on her at last. She was no longer alone in her little house, far away from everyone and everything. She was at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on the other side of the ocean from her safe haven.

Children, loads of them, would be arriving today to start a new term. People about the castle, day and night. Questions. Questions about her. Snape, for one, would want answers, and he would want them soon.

_For a long, silent time I have waited in stillness, away from the eyes of the people I know. If I break from the peace I meticulously assembled, Susan will crumble, the end of the show._

It was nearly time to join the staff for breakfast but Susan was still sitting in bed. With steely determination, she rose and entered the bathroom, quickly casting her wrapper to the floor.

After a brief soak, she slid into the only spare outfit she had brought with her. They were Muggle clothes, consisting of an olive green, cotton blouse and a pair of brown, twill trousers. After completing the outfit with her worn, brown boots, she made her way out of her rooms and into the hallway to meet with Professor Snape.

_oooooooo_

He was waiting for Susan just outside her door. In his experience, it was unusual for women to be on time consistently, but he expected that discipline from her.

The woman stepped out of her room. "Hello," she said, closing the door behind her.

"Miss Jones."

Together, they began to make their way out of the dungeons. "It is so confusing the way the stairs move all the time," she remarked. "How many students get lost trying to negotiate the castle?"

"A fair few, especially during the first month. I could suggest drawing up maps and passing them out to the new arrivals, but I enjoy removing house points when they are tardy to my class. My colleagues are far too generous in awarding them. I level the pitch by deducting them," he admitted.

Chuckling, Susan said, "How very noble of you."

"Noble?" Snape snorted. "_Noble_ is not a term one generally uses when describing me."

They had arrived at the staff room now. The start-of-term breakfast meeting was about to begin. Susan paused just outside the door. "Professor Snape, just how many teachers are there?"

"Fourteen professors live and teach at Hogwarts. There are other members of the staff, such as Mediwitches, a librarian, a groundskeeper, et cetera. Occasionally, guest lecturers or instructors come to stay here throughout the term," he informed her.

"Will they all be at breakfast?" There was a note of apprehension in her voice.

"I believe so," he replied impatiently. "We must be seated immediately."

Susan bit her lip. She seemed visibly distressed, very unlike her usual stoic demeanour. "You know, I'm not really hungry," she said.

"Regardless, you will attend the meeting. Surely a cup of tea wouldn't--"

"No, I think I'm going to go back to my room for a bit," Susan replied quickly. "Give my regards to Dumbledore and tell him I'll come to the luncheon."

Susan had already begun to scurry away from the staff room when Snape called out, "Miss Jones, the Headmaster instructed you to attend _this_ meeting!" It was futile. The woman had bolted, and he refused to chase after her.

Snape made his way into the room and directly to the tea service before noticing that he was the last to arrive, yet again. When he had his cup, he found a seat next to McGonagall.

"Where is Miss Jones, Severus?" Minerva asked, placing her cup on the table. Dumbledore, seated next to her, was waiting for his reply, as well.

"She refused to join us," Snape answered. "I think she was reluctant to be introduced to so many people at once." Snape looked at Dumbledore, thinking, _Really, Albus, she looked terrified. Why won't you tell me who the hell she is?_

As if reading his thoughts, Dumbledore said, "She will reveal herself to us all in good time, I'm sure. I trust you will let her know what we discuss at this meeting, Severus."

Snape nodded his agreement, and then turned his attention to Quirrell, who sat to his right. _Idiot. _If the staff and the meeting were any indication of the coming year, there were tiresome days ahead.

* * *

Even though she had been expecting him, the knock on her door startled her. Susan let Snape inside her room. 

"Sorry I dashed away like that," she offered.

"No matter, Miss Jones. I'm here to brief you," Snape replied curtly.

"I think I need to speak with Dumbledore privately. Could you ask him to come down here and see me?"

"He is very busy. In case you have forgotten, he has a school to govern, and today is start of term."

"I know but,well, maybe you could help me," she said.

He sighed dramatically before asking, "Help you with what?"

"I want you to ward my door and make it unplottable."

"No."

"Professor Snape, I have thought about it and I really don't want students stumbling in on me. If my door were unplottable, then no one would--"

He held up his hand to silence the woman. "This is Slytherin territory. I am the head of Slytherin House, Miss Jones, and I assure you that my students will not harass you. Albus placed you here for that reason." While he spoke to her, he noticed that she kept her eyes on the door, more concerned with that than with what he was saying. "Are you expecting someone?" he inquired.

"No, and I would like to keep it that way," Susan replied. "If I could speak with Albus about this, I'm sure he--"

"He will be at the luncheon. You may talk with him then."

"Will you stop interrupting me?" she snapped.

Amused by her loss of composure, Snape allowed a rare half-smile to grace his lips. "So, you do have a temper," he mused.

She closed her eyes and drew in a long, deep breath. "You said that you were here to brief me. What did I miss?" Her blank expression had returned and her voice had reverted to its normal monotone.

"Shall we sit?" he asked, nodding at the chairs by the hearth.

"Yes," she said, with resignation.

_oooooooo_

The luncheon proceeded without Miss Jones. Again, she refused to attend, and Snape made no attempt to change her mind. He suspected she would be absent from the feast, as well. Snape dismissed her and her problems, realising he had much to do before the students arrived. The last thing he needed was to play nursemaid to a grown woman.

His lesson plans were in order, the dormitories were ready, his classroom was properly equipped, and his potions store was full: Snape was prepared for the new school year. Only one thing left to do now: go to the Great Hall for the sorting ceremony and start-of-term feast.

He sat at the staff table throughout the event, watching the new arrivals nervously introduce themselves to their respective housemates--and carefully observing the Potter boy. _He looks like his sodding father. _Another ginger-haired, spotted boy sat near Potter. _That makes a half-dozen Weasleys to date. The word_ Contraceptus_ comes to mind. _

_oooooooo_

Down in the dungeons, Susan sat before a mirror examining her own reflection. She released her shoulder-length, brown hair from its plait, allowing it to frame her face and neck. Her spectacles were deposited on the vanity, next to a box she had opened less than twenty minutes ago. Standing, she let her clothes fall in a pile around her ankles. She turned to examine her profile. After one last look into the mirror, she walked into the bathroom and submerged her form into steamy liquid. She closed her eyes, resting her head on the lip of the tub, letting her mind drift...

_..."Papa, can I come in?" a small child asked as she peeked into her parents' bedroom.Papa? I don't have any children," said a man in his early forties. "I am far too young to have any of those."_

_The little girl giggled. "Oh, Papa! You are so silly!" She ran into her laughing father's open arms. "You smell funny."_

_"You can blame your mother for that," he replied, as he set his daughter on the bed. "She's been trying that wolf potion again. She put in a whole jar of eucalyptus oil. I must smell like a gigantic cough drop, eh?" The child giggled and nodded. "Which one are you, anyway?"_

_"Papa!" she complained._

_"I know who you are," he admitted. "I was the one who delivered you, remember?"_

_"No, how could I?"_

_The man surveyed his daughter's beloved face. "Why don't you fetch your sister and we'll go to the sweets shop?" he proposed._

_The girl jumped down from the bed and scurried out of the room. Her father called after her, "If you tell your mother, the trip is off. She has already accused me of spoiling you both rotten. Should your teeth fall out, she'll have my head on a pike!"..._

_

* * *

_For Snape, the first weeks of teaching had been arduous. In addition to his duties, he'd been busy researching Susan Jones. According to his investigations, there were thousands of women named Susan Jones living all over the globe. He narrowed the search to include only those between the ages of 20 and 30, which he assumed she was. It was such a common name that he eventually conceded defeat and decided to go to Dumbledore with his questions. 

On a Friday night, Snape broached the subject of Susan Jones. Snape refused the sweet atrocities the Headmaster offered him--this time it was chocolate-covered Jelly Slugs--and seated himself on the visitor's side of the desk.

"What can I do for you, my dear boy?" asked Dumbledore warmly.

Severus always had to keep from cringing when he was addressed as such "I have some questions about Miss Jones."

"Of course, you do."

"Specifically I wish to know who she is," Snape began. "Have you any idea how many Susan Joneses there are?" Dumbledore did not answer, though he looked amused. "If she is in danger, then allowing her to stay on here is not in the students' best interest."

"Severus, I know you don't trust people easily, given your, er, troubled background," Dumbledore said, looking over the top of his half-moon spectacles. "Susan merely needs time to adjust before she confides in anyone."

"Headmaster, whatever you tell me about the woman, I will keep to myself," Snape assured him.

"I will say this much: You will not find what you are looking for by investigating her name."

Snape leaned on one hand, scowling at Dumbledore. He blinked, slowly. Finally, he said, "Obviously, you do not trust me." He leapt up from the chair and strode swiftly to the door. There he turned, muttered a brisk "Good evening, Headmaster" over his shoulder, and left the office.

Roiling with emotions ranging from exasperation to fury, Snape stormed back to the dungeons. He had half a mind to barge into Susan's room and demand answers. The other half of his mind contemplated the scene that would cause, drawing attention to the woman down the hall--and his own lack of control.

He would have his answers. In time, she would reveal her secrets. Scrupulous observation and a talent for stealth--skills that had saved his life many times--would serve him once more. He had evaded even Voldemort's scrutiny. Spying on one woman would be child's play.

_oooooooo_

For the next few weeks, Susan spent most of her time in her room, venturing out only when she was called to serve in a classroom. She had spoken to very few of the students, and that was fine with her. One girl, though, caught in the act of trying to hand in a dirty cauldron, had reacted with fear when Susan called her to task. The girl revealed there were rumours circulating through the school about Susan--that she was a student who had misbehaved in Potions and had been given a detention, which had turned into a life sentence of potion brewing and servitude to Snape. Susan neither acknowledged nor denied the rumour. When the student returned with cauldron, it was immaculate.

Finally having grown tired of lurking in the dank dungeons, Susan decided to go into Hogsmeade, without the aid of any escort. The air was colder than she had anticipated, but she found it invigorating; it was a fresh and welcome change.

She observed the townspeople, unnoticed by them as usual. For years now, Susan had been living in absolute anonymity, but something was awakening within her that was both distressing and bewildering. It wasn't that she craved recognition or even acknowledgement. What Susan wanted was to remember, without regret or fear, the way life used to be. How? How do I move past the barrier in me--the place where you were? This emptiness can never be filled. Were you the start of me, or I the start of you? If I look in a mirror, whose eyes will I see?

Susan expected him to be there in the pub. Snape had just returned from his monthly errand of delivering the potion. When she opened the door and looked across the room, sure enough, he was there.

She took a moment to look at him. She'd been so surprised the first time she'd seen him, she hadn't dared study him closely. Now, she saw that he hadn't changed much over the years, except he had grown a bit taller. He still had that ever-present aura of sad acceptance. Her heart ached.

Susan was surprised by the feeling and even more surprised by what happened next. Empathy turned to boldness. As she glided across the pub to his table, she cautioned herself, bland, ordinary, Susan.

"Good afternoon," she said plainly.

Remus Lupin looked up. His eyes were tired, but full of kindness, and his smile was warm and genuine when he replied, "Miss Jones is it? Good afternoon." Lupin stood, pulling out a chair for her. As she sat beside him, he said, "How nice to see you, again. I'm sorry our first meeting ended so quickly. Severus can be rather abrupt."

"I have gathered as much," she replied. "Please, do call me Susan, won't you?"

"Well then, Susan, you must call me Remus. Would you care to join me in a glass of wine?"

She smiled. "Thank you, Remus."

He signalled to the barkeep. "You are quite welcome. So, how is it that you know Professor Snape?" he asked.

"I don't know Professor Snape," Susan replied flatly. "I doubt that anyone does."

Remus chuckled, and said, "Then, you do know him. Are you staying at Hogwarts?"

"I am."

"Pardon me for asking, but you don't seem like a teacher. What do you do there?"

"Technically, I am a professor's assistant. Mostly, I hide in the dungeons and bide my time," she answered.

"They put you in the dungeons with Snape?"

"My rooms are in Slytherin House, yes, but I am not with Snape," Susan said firmly. She lifted her head and looked around the pub.

"Are you expecting someone?" Lupin asked.

"No, but I am not supposed to leave the grounds."

"Prisoner, are we?"

"Of sorts." Susan nodded to the bartender, who had brought her wine. She took a sip. "So, Remus, what do you do?" She already knew the answer, but wanted to see if anything had changed.

"Oh, well, I do odd jobs, mostly. I aspire to be a teacher one day, though," he said brightly.

Her smile returned and broadened. "Teaching _is_ an odd job, Remus. Every mind is different than the next, and every talent, unique." Susan leaned toward him. "It takes a chameleonesque individual to adapt to the vagaries of the immature mind."

"I have never heard it put quite that way before."

"Haven't you?" she quipped. _Watch it. What are you playing at? Retract._

"Perhaps..." he thought for a moment, "perhaps, I have. By any chance, you wouldn't know…oh, never mind."

Susan was relieved by his casual dismissal of her statement. She shouldn't have gone so far. She changed the subject. "Do you come here often?" The triteness of that question made her wince, and she added, "That came out wrong. I do promise that was not my attempt at a pick-up line. If it _were_, I'd do ever so much better, rendering you incapable of resisting my many charms."

Lupin roared with laughter and assured her, "Susan, if you were you coming on to me, I would not recognise it unless you clubbed me about the head with a Bludger bat and dragged me to the dungeons by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin."

"I'll keep that in mind for future reference," she promised.

He smiled speculatively and said, "You have a way with words."

"Wayward, that's me. Some think I should be evaluated for mental instability."

"Snape, no doubt."

"Spot on, my dear Lupin!" she exclaimed.

He tilted his head to the side and regarded the woman before him with perplexity. "Miss Jones, have we met before? There's something about you."

"In another lifetime, perhaps. Past or future," she said longingly. She looked over at the door again, this time seeing the one person she had hoped to elude. "Bugger, I'm in this arse over tit now."

* * *

He had just returned from his trip to Hogsmeade when he heard Miss Jones' door open. Rather than approach her and ask questions, which he knew she would not answer, Snape slid into the shadows of a corridor to his left. 

She appeared to be in quite a hurry as she stole down the hall and then up the stairs. After following her out of the castle, Snape realised that Susan Jones was on her way to Hogsmeade. He drew his wand and placed a tracking spell on her. He would wait for her to reach her destination and then he would Apparate; there was no need for him to make the long walk. Roughly an hour later, when she had been idle for twenty minutes or so, he did just that.

He entered the pub and scanned the room, spotting the werewolf first. His eyes narrowed. Lupin and Jones were laughing and enjoying their drinks in sweet oblivion, like two old friends. As the dark wizard approached them, they snapped out of their reverie.

"Miss Jones, I see that, yet again, you have taken it upon yourself to flout the headmaster's directives," he accused.

"Will you join us, Professor Snape?" Susan inquired.

"I have no intention of socialising with present company," Snape informed her.

"I thought you were at Hogwarts."

"It is not for you to concern yourself with my location, Miss Jones. Unfortunately, I have been saddled with the tedious chore of monitoring yours."

"Severus, I think you are being harsh. Susan is a grown woman capable of making her own decisions," Lupin pointed out.

With a wave of one hand, Snape was about to ignore that comment, but then changed his mind. "Susan, is it?"

"It has been since you found me, Professor," she retorted. Turning to her companion, she said, "Remus, I have to go back with Professor Snape, but I thank you for a most pleasurable conversation."

"Are you sure you wouldn't prefer to stay?" Lupin looked at Snape but spoke to Susan. "I am rather enjoying your company."

"Amazing," Snape snorted. "Already sniffing after her tail, Lupin? Pity it's nearly the wrong time of the month for you."

"That was tasteless, Snape," Lupin said hotly.

"Not as bland as the bait, I assure you," Snape replied.

Susan exhaled heavily. _If I had wand, I would conjure a demon, then to Hell you would go in a shroud of blood. Tempt me not; I need barely a reason to watch your head fall to the floor with a thud._ She patted Lupin's hand, then rose to stand next to Snape.

Gratified, Snape said, "Come, Miss Jones. The headmaster will want a word with you." He turned on his heel, clearly expecting her to follow him out the door.

"Remus, you know where to find me," Susan called over her shoulder.

"If you need anything, send for me. The dungeons can be very _nasty_," Remus said, with feeling.

* * *

At the Hogsmeade side of the Forbidden Forest, Snape came to a stop. "In the interest of time, we will Apparate to Hogwarts," he decided. 

"You do realise that you will have to touch me for that to work, don't you?" Susan asked.

"Yes," Snape huffed.

Susan wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling his heavy, black robes encircle her. He tensed as he put one arm around her waist. In an instant, the journey ended. "I forgot how strange that feels," remarked Susan. "I've never gotten used to it."

Snape arched an eyebrow, examining the woman. _I am weary of this charade_. "What are you hiding, Miss Jones?"

"There is nothing up my sleeve or under my hat," she sang out as she walked purposefully across the lawn toward the castle.

Severus Snape had had enough of games. On the stairs, he caught her, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her around to face him. "This has gone on too long! I went to the back of beyond to bring you to this place. I want an explanation!"

"I am not obliged to tell you anything!" Susan shot back.

Snape released his grip in order to draw his wand and point it in her face. "I have many talents, Miss Jones," he hissed. "You need not speak to give me answers. _Legilimens_!"

Susan felt him enter her mind, but she did not resist. Instead, she decided to give the professor a bit of a picture show. If he wanted to see her memories and thoughts, he was going to get his money's worth. She couldn't block him out, but she had learned how to misdirect her thoughts when being violated. She knew that certain things would never be found in the recesses of her mind. Albus Dumbledore had taken care of that years ago, when he became her secret keeper.

_Hydrogen plus oxygen yields water. Water freezes at 0 degrees Celsius, 32 degrees Fahrenheit, or 273.15 Kelvin. The capitol of Mexico is Mexico City. Tequila is an alcoholic drink made in the arid highlands of central Mexico from fermented and distilled sap of the agave. Fill a large glass with ice. Add one part tequila, one part lime juice, and a dash of cointreau. I prefer mine shaken, not stirred. La cucaracha, la cucaracha, Ya no puede caminar. Porque no tiene? Porque le falta? Marijuana que fumar! Somebody pass me the salt._

When Snape pulled away, Susan laughed hysterically. "What in the bloody hell was that?" he hissed.

"Yo no sé!" she howled.

"Silence!" Though he was attempting to control her, his command lacked force. Snape shrank back.

Susan moved closer. "Would you like to have another go at it? I have an excellent recipe for Martinis. Oh, and I think Luck Be a Lady would go smashingly with that, don't you?" She paused, tapping a finger on her lips. "My German is a little rusty, but I'm sure I could recall something to go with a weißbier."

"Enough!" Snape roared.

In sheer exasperation, he seized her wrist and marched into the castle. Inside, he prodded her toward Dumbledore's office with the tip of his wand. "I will have my answers now! Chocolate Lacewings, " he spat out to the gargoyles flanking the spiral staircase. They sprang apart. When Snape and Susan reached the office door, it swung open, catching them both by surprise.

"Kindly step in and take a seat--after apologising to Miss Jones, of course," Dumbledore said evenly to Severus Snape.

* * *

A/N: Thank you to my lovely beta, _**S**_.

Please, take a moment to review.


	5. Chapter Four: A Name

* * *

**Chapter Four: A Name**

The irritation that had been brewing in Snape since returning with Miss Jones in late August had reached its boiling point in Hogsmeade. He had never imagined that it would come to this: manhandling her and marching her, at wandpoint, to the Headmaster's office. But, it had.

A certain amount of satisfaction puffed up Snape's chest as he ushered Miss Jones into the office. However, he was deflated by the smug look on her face when Dumbledore instructed Snape to apologise. Kicking himself mentally for his loss of composure, Snape begrudgingly offered his version of an apology to Susan. "I regret having used my wand to bring you in," Severus said in a low tone to Susan.

"Not bloody likely," she retorted.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Would you kindly tell me why you are both here, today?"

"I found Miss Jones consorting with werewolves in Hogsmeade this afternoon, Headmaster. She has flouted your rules for her safety," Snape reported. Dumbledore's lips tightened. He looked to Susan.

"Albus, I know you have your reasons for asking me to remain hidden in the school, but I think it's time that some changes were made," Susan explained. "I have grown weary of confinement—and of having Snape spy on me." She shot Snape a look of reproach.

Dumbledore asked, "To what sort of changes are you referring?"

Susan's answer was indirect. "I am considering a few minor modifications. I think it would be easier for me, and for all parties concerned, to phase in the changes gradually," she replied.

"Are you certain, my dear? In my opinion, a complete transformation would do you the most good."

Snape drummed his fingers on the desk. More riddles and vague references. "Headmaster, must you speak in such obscure terms? I wish to know what is transpiring here," Snape persisted.

"In due time," Albus replied. "Now, Susan, what do you require? I am still in possession of your wand."

She shook her head. "The wand is not necessary."

"Her wand? Headmaster, you told me that Susan Jones was not a witch, yet she has a wand?"

"Patience, Professor Snape," Dumbledore advised. "What, then, will you need?" he inquired again of Susan.

"I require a potion." She looked at Snape before noting, "I will help make it, of course."

This was too much for Severus Snape. "I don't know what is going on here," he hissed, "but I don't need help from _anyone_ in my laboratory!" After a brief moment to calm himself, he added, "Especially not from a woman who answers my questions with recipes!"

"Since when is Legilimency a question?" Susan asked angrily.

"Perhaps you would prefer Veritaserum?"

"Perhaps you would prefer a swift kick to your arse?" Susan yelled.

"That will be quite enough," Dumbledore said firmly. "Severus, I rely on you to make the potion for Miss Jones, accepting her help as necessary. And you, Susan, you will kindly keep both your feet away from my Potions master."

Snape stood up and adjusted his robes. "_I_ require answers to my questions before I agree to anything."

"Tell him what he needs to know, Albus. I really don't want to be here when you do it, though." Susan stood, preparing to leave, but remembered to ask, "Albus, do you still have the bottle of blood I left in your possession?"

An eerie silence fell over the room after Susan's question. Snape pricked up his ears, waiting for the answer. _Blood. There are many potions requiring blood, most of them illegal--or should be._ Instead of speaking, Dumbledore unlocked a drawer in his desk. He extracted a silver box, and then locked and applied a sealing charm to the drawer. All the while, Snape was remembering, _The last time I used blood in a potion was at the command of the Dark Lord. The number of deaths attributed to that potion was nine, though it would have been ten if I had not dropped the last dose. The last dose was intended for Dumbledore._

"When blood is involved, I must insist that you tell me what is going on," Snape said flatly.

Susan sat down. She said sadly, "You'll know soon enough."

Dumbledore placed the box on his desktop with care. "You will find everything in order," he assured Susan.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before reaching for the box and drawing it onto her lap. Her fingers roved in slow, tentative circles around the lid, and then down to the latch. "The charm is still intact," she whispered. She looked up at Dumbledore.

"Are you ready to open it?" Albus asked gently.

"Pandora's box," she muttered.

"You need not be afraid that hope will escape, leaving behind the evils of the past," Dumbledore said.

Once again, Snape grew angry. "Open the blasted box," he said.

"Albus, please remove the charm," Susan agreed.

The elderly wizard placed his wand on the box and invoked, "_Patesco!_" There was a sharp, clicking noise. Snape stood behind Susan as she opened the lid.

The contents of the silver box were neatly displayed on a black velvet lining. A dark red wand lay on the diagonal that divided the box into two right triangles. A small crushed-velvet bag sat atop a stack of parchment in the centre of one triangle. The other contained four phials. Three were of little interest to the Potions master; it was the fourth that caught his eye: _the blood. _

Susan shut the box and stood up. "Thank you, Sir. I am going to my rooms now," she said to Dumbledore in a strained tone.

"The house-elves will bring you your evening meal," he replied. "When you have had some time to prepare, please send for me, and I will help with the arrangements." She forced a smile, then proceeded out the door.

Dumbledore turned his attention to Snape. "I was not lying when I said that Susan Jones is no witch. You see, Severus, there is no Susan Jones."

"If so," Snape countered, "who was that?"

"You ask a complex question, Severus."

_Oh, for the love of Merlin! _"Albus, start with a name."

"Did you ever wonder what it would be like to be the average of everyone, Severus?"

"No."

"When you first met Miss Jones, of whom did she remind you?"

"Albus…" Snape warned. "No one? Everyone? There never was a Susan Jones," Dumbledore revealed. "Put another way, the woman we know by that name does not exist." He sat back wearily in his chair. "A member of her family introduced her to me just over seven years ago. She does not trust herself enough to use a wand, so she is defenceless against many forms of magic; however, she knows her way around a Potions lab and, if you give her half a chance, you may learn something from her."

"That remains to be seen," Snape sniffed. "Why did she go into hiding?"

"I cannot tell you that. It is up to her to do so. And, I think it is time for you to return to your office. Miss Jones will be waiting there, I suspect."

Snape huffed, "This conversation has been most unenlightening."

"Patience, my boy," Albus said brightly. "Oh, I nearly forgot." He reached into his top drawer and produced a bundle of letters and parchment. "Please see that Miss Jones receives these."

_She will, _after_ I have read them._ With a slight bow, Severus excused himself.

* * *

Snape dropped the bundle of letters on his desk. He fetched a glass of brandy and a flagon of headache-relieving potion before lighting a fire and settling into his chair. With a wave of his wand and a simple incantation, he probed the papers for charms, only to find there were none. 

The first envelope held a letter.

_Dear Professor Dumbledore, _

My concern for her is growing. The last time we spoke, she warned me that I was in danger and advised me not to come to her again. She assures me that no one knows--but how long she can keep it a secret?

I tried to persuade her that **she** is in danger, but she refuses to listen and continues to see him. She has always been entranced with the Dark Arts and I do not think she realises what his true nature is, as her love clouds her judgement. She is besotted with him.

His brother is putting pressure on him to end the relationship. If he discovers that she is not a Pureblood, I fear the worst will happen.

Luckily, Father is indisposed and in deepest seclusion. Even if he were found, he would be unable to answer questions.

I need her. Please, what can I do? His grip on her is so strong.

Sincerely,  
S

Snape opened the next letter.

_Dear Professor Dumbledore, _

I met with her again, today, in our usual place. Physically, she seems better than the last time, but I can see fear and anguish in her eyes despite her brave words. She says that she will change him into the man she wants him to be, but she is the one who has changed. My cousin said that love is blind; in this case, he is utterly correct.

We are no longer two of a kind. I am lost without her, Professor. Every time we meet, I can only catch glimpses of the woman I have known all my life.

Please, I think he is going to kill her. What must I do?

Regards,  
S

The third letter was short, and was written in a firmer hand.

_Albus, She has agreed to leave him! I am going to retrieve her. I will bring her to Hogwarts as you instructed. I have waited for this day for over three years. We will see you, soon. _

With hope,  
S

P.S. Tell my cousin to meet me in your office a week from tomorrow. I look forward to seeing you both.

Snape put the letters back into their envelopes and finished his brandy. From what he had read so far, he concluded that the woman to whom the letters were referring had fallen victim to the blandishments of a dangerous cad. Albus had offered help to the author of the letters by providing the first woman with a safe haven. _S --could stand for Susan. If so, then why was she the one in hiding? The subject of the letters sounded like the one who needed help and protection, not the author._

There was a knock on his office door.

"Enter." He put the stack of papers in his drawer and looked up. "Ah, Miss Jones. I have been expecting you."

She stood wavering in the doorway for the longest time, deciding whether or not to enter. Snape stared at her haughtily. He sat stiffly erect with his arms crossed over his chest and his long, hooked nose held high in the air. Haltingly, one step at a time, Susan ventured into the Potions master's office.

"I assume, since you greet me this way, Albus failed to tell you all you wanted to know." She joined Snape at his desk. "All right, Professor Snape. I will tell you more—but you must keep what I say in confidence."

"I have given Albus my word," he stated firmly.

"My name is not Susan Jones." Snape was unimpressed. "My name was Maria Santiago, and I was a witch."

"Miss Santiago, you may have changed your name, but you cannot change the fact that you are a witch. That is a lifelong fact."

"You are correct, but only in part," she allowed. "I retain some small skill at Potions."

Snape raised a dubious eyebrow. He went on with his questions. "Why did you continue your charade once we arrived at Hogwarts?"

"Susan Jones is no danger to anyone," she informed him.

"Ha!" Snape barked out. _Dratted woman! _"Miss Santiago, if we could--"

"It's _Susan_," she insisted, "or Miss Jones, Professor Snape. Perhaps, at a later date, I will introduce myself to you properly, but now is not that time."

Severus opened the drawer and drew out the three letters he had read earlier. When he looked up at her, she showed no reaction. "I presume these belong to you."

He handed them to her. She shrugged her shoulders and replied, "I've never seen them before." Nonchalantly, she placed them on the desk in front of her and addressed Snape. "I think we need to talk about the potion I mentioned in Dumbledore's office. You wanted to know about the blood."

"It has been my experience that most potions requiring the use of blood are used for Dark magic."

"Spot on, I suppose. But, you may believe me when I say I'm not trying to brew a potion to cause death."

"I really don't know what to believe when it concerns you," Snape said.

Susan sighed, and then leaned across the desk. "I intend to brew a person."

* * *

Albus Dumbledore had written the letter and given it to the owl earlier in the day. He knew Susan would not be pleased, but he had done it for her own good. The Aurors would find out soon enough and she would need all the support she could muster. He hadn't betrayed the Fidelius Charm in writing to Lupin because Remus was already involved. Susan had already spoken to him, and apparently he had enjoyed her company, though he did not know about Maria. _In time, he will remember the love. He will learn to forgive and to accept what has happened._

"Fawkes, old boy," Dumbledore quipped to his phoenix, "you and Miss Jones have much in common."

_oooooooo_

The letter arrived early the next morning while its recipient was alone in the kitchen.

"Hello," Lupin said, taking the letter and giving the owl a piece of toast. "You're a surprise. I haven't heard from Albus in ages."

_Dear Remus, _

I hope this letter finds you well. (A simple Reparo!_ should fix it.)_ …'

"What?" Lupin muttered.

Just then, the owl knocked over the sugar bowl, sending it crashing to the ground. Remus shook his head and grumbled, "Bloody Legilimens," then continued to read.

_…I bring you news (I am glad you are sitting down) of Maria. She is alive and well and currently staying at Hogwarts. I know this news comes as a shock, but I assure you she will explain in due time. She was able to formulate an effective disguise and has been safely hidden since she stopped communicating with us nearly six years ago. The Ministry has reopened its investigation of the Nott Murders. I fear that Maria will indeed have to stand trial. She needs you, Remus, now more than ever. I would like to meet with you in the usual place, today if possible. There is no need to reply; I will know when you arrive. _

With great anticipation,

Albus Dumbledore

P.S. I understand you have met our professors' assistant, Miss Jones. I do hope you become better acquainted. I think the two of you will get on smashingly.

As Remus read the last line, the paper went up in flames. He shook his head and stood, left the kitchen, and walked into the study. Lupin gazed pensively at an old photo. It was a picture taken shortly after he had finished at Hogwarts. His parents were there, along with his aunt and uncle. They were there, too, one to either side of him, holding his hands and smiling up at him proudly.

* * *

Back in the dungeons, it was stalemate. The Potions master leaned halfway across his desk, scowling, trying his best to intimidate the woman into telling the truth. Susan would not yield easily, as Snape had assumed. Staring into those eyes of hers brought many questions to his mind. 

"Did I hear you correctly? Did you say you are trying to brew a _person_?

"I thought that might get your attention," she said with a smirk.

"Explain yourself," Snape demanded.

"All right," Susan sang out. "Formulation: Susan Jones." She took the opportunity to pause dramatically. She then stood, and began to explain in her way.

"Remove the individuality from the individual:  
Choose a common name, nothing unique and nothing foreign.  
The height must be statistically correct.  
Eye colour and hair colour fit into the equation.  
Physique should be average, according to the tables.  
Averages, medians, modes, means, the middle--  
More of her means less of me.

"Find a new place to live.  
Look for a niche in which to hide.  
Forget magic and family and friends.  
Conceal, bury, overlook.  
Say little.  
Averages, medians, modes, means, the middle--  
Add some of her and subtract some of me!

"Seek solitude.  
Observe, scrutinize, minimize.  
Never try to connect or succeed.  
Averages, medians, modes, means, the middle--  
Insert pieces of her and deduct some of me.  
The sum is the same,  
But the total is less."

Snape interjected, "What are you going on about?"

"Allow me to finish?" she asked.

"By all means, but do try and make some sense."

"Thank you, Professor. Now, where was I? Ah yes...from my blood to my bones, I have been replaced by Susan Jones."

As she finished, Susan took a deep bow, bending completely in half. Then, she lifted her head to study Severus Snape's reaction.

All Snape could say was, "Get the hell out of my office."

* * *

A/N: Thank you, **_S_**! You are an amazing Beta. 


	6. Chapter Five: Choices

**Chapter Five: Choices**

In point of fact, she had expected this sort of a reaction from Snape; she had chosen her words with care. She did this not because she particularly enjoyed goading him, but more exactly, because she had reconsidered her decision only moments before arriving at his office door.

Just now, she was free. _Susan_ was free, rather, but that detail had seemed inconsequential to her until twenty minutes ago.

The thoughts spun inside her head like a film--granted, they were reminiscent of the worst sort of straight-to-video film--like an uninterrupted circuit, overwhelming her logic and overriding her previous plan to reveal her true identity.

"Why are you still here?" Snape's voice cut through her muddled thoughts, forcing her to focus on the matter at hand.

"I'll go now," she replied evenly. "You said you wanted answers, Professor, but I say this: If you cannot detect the fabrication, you will never unearth the inventor." Before Snape could shout at her, Susan made her way to the door.

_I have to leave Hogwarts. I don't belong here; I never did. _

Susan began to collect her meagre possessions, starting with the box she had left in Dumbledore's possession years ago.

_Daily I dreamt of deliverance, never knowing nightly peace. My burden belongs beyond the barrier of right and wrong, farther from the following fright. Release the refugee who hides inside of me. Restrain the pain, potent and profound._

Why she had not thought of leaving sooner escaped her now; it all seemed very clear. She was almost ready to leave. The last item she placed in her satchel was the red wand, though she was sure not to need it. Still, it _was_ hers. She had so little left of her former life, she felt entitled to this small, thin scrap of magical wood. Whatever she was now, she had once been a witch.

As twilight shifted to moonlight, Susan Jones/Maria Santiago, the ordinary face with the extraordinary soul, left Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to live her _own_ life. For a woman such as she, that was quite a feat.

Had it been any other evening of any other day of any other week, Severus Snape would have noticed the woman passing by his dungeon doors. But it was not any other evening of any other day of any other week; it was the end of a very trying day, which fell at the conclusion of a horrendous week.

Snape decided that he was finished with Miss Susan-Maria-Santiago-Jones, otherwise known to him as Lady Rhyme-Lacking-Reason or Madam Penchant-For-Purposeless-Poems. The moment she stepped out of his office, he had scourgified his hands of her.

Didn't he have enough to worry about, what with watching over Potter and guarding that damnable Philosopher's Stone, which Dumbledore had secreted in the bowels of the castle? Snape's crockery was bloody well overflowing with obligations.

Still, as he lay in bed a few hours later, he was assaulted by a ruthless feeling: He wanted her.

* * *

The Shrieking Shack hadn't changed in years. It was as though the place had been built aged, for it had never looked new. In his youth, the structure had looked this way, weak and rotten. There was a pall of darkness that seemed to envelop the room at every hour.

A puff of dust leapt out from under him as Remus sat down on an old, sprung sofa. He knew Dumbledore would arrive soon.

"Lovely evening, isn't it?" Dumbledore said cheerily as he entered the room.

"Where is she?"

"Maria is occupied at the moment, I am afraid."

"Typical," muttered Lupin. "How is she?"

"Average," was the only reply.

"Do you know who wants the case reopened?"

"Yes. Meriwether Nott."

"Meriwether Nott? Damien's ex-wife? I thought she was pleased that Damien was gone for good."

"Her point of view seems to have changed," added Dumbledore. "There is some question about inheritance. Since the matter of Damien's death has not been settled, the Nott Estate cannot be divided and distributed among the beneficiaries, one of whom is Meriwether."

Remus heaved a sigh of frustration as he stood up from the decaying couch. He ran his hands through his greying hair while he walked over to the dirt-streaked and boarded window. He did not want to ask the question. More than that, he did not want Dumbledore to confirm what he already knew. But he needed to ask the question because he could not avoid it any longer. It had been almost six years since the incident; perhaps there was a chance.

He spun around to face the sage wizard. "What will happen to her? If they find her guilty and she is sent to Azkaban, what will happen to her?"

Dumbledore's lips tightened when he said, "I think we both know the answer to that, even after all this time."

"It is a time I would prefer to forget," admitted Remus.

_oooo 19 April 1984 oooo_

She approached the little house. It was a house where her family had stayed many times, a place she had always considered a second home. But her aunt and uncle had passed away now, leaving only her cousin, whom she loved like a brother, to live by himself in the cosy, seven-room bungalow. She knocked on the door, hoping Remus was home, for she desperately needed to talk with him about her sister.

The door opened. "Hello! I thought you were still in Argentina studying for your examinations," said a surprised Remus Lupin.

She flung herself into his arms and buried her face in his chest. "Well, I'm glad to see you, too," he ventured, nonplussed by her emotional greeting. He slipped a knuckle under her chin to lift it. The usually happy, bright eyes he saw held a look of desperation.

"What's the matter?" he asked, frowning.

"It's about Maria, Remus. May I come in?"

He ushered her in and shut the door behind them. "Want some tea? I have a little brandy I could add to it."

She nodded and said, "Just the thing."

Following him into the kitchen, she sat on a wooden bench by the table. He handed her a cup, and then joined her on the bench, sitting beside her.

"She's still seeing him, isn't she?" Remus guessed.

"Yes," his cousin whispered. "I just don't understand it! Maria is so much sharper than this." She paused to take a sip of tea before continuing. "Remus, she looks dreadful! I have never known her to be so quiet, and her eyes have dark circles under them as if she never rests."

"I'm sorry. I know this must be killing you."

"It is. I miss her so much. The worst of it is that he's been hurting her. She tried to cover the marks, but she missed the ones on her neck."

Remus shook his head and took a deep breath. "He should die for using her like that! How long has this been going on?"

"She won't tell me. She tried to deny it, but she can't keep things like that from me. She claims it was just a couple of times, that she deserved it, and that he promised never to do it again."

"Right. Rotten, sick bastards are always sorry, aren't they?" Remus hissed angrily. "And it's never their fault."

"I'm scared. If he finds out about Dad…"

"Do you think he suspects?" Remus asked.

"No, but how long can you keep a thing like that a secret? Someone is bound to figure out that Arturo Santiago died before Maria and I were even born! What was she thinking? Those Death Eater types are all alike. They will feast on her flesh when they find out she's a Mudblood."

"You're probably right. I hate to say it, but Nott might kill her even if he never finds out about Uncle Diego."

"What can I do? I swear I have tried everything. She simply won't listen to me anymore."

Remus thought for a moment. "I know a wizard who seems to have many answers," he said. "He is the best man I've ever met, and I would trust him with my life."

"Who?" she asked.

"Albus Dumbledore."

"The headmaster from your old school? How could he help me? He doesn't even know me, Remus."

"He accepted me to Hogwarts knowing full well that I bore the Lycanthrope Curse. He is a wise and generous man. It couldn't do any harm to seek his guidance."

"I would give anything, Remus, _anything_ to get her away from him."

"Then I will meet with Dumbledore first thing tomorrow and inform him of the situation."

"Thank you. I love you, Remus. What would I do without you?"

He smiled wryly at his cousin and replied, "Oh, you'd probably be rich and famous and married to a prince."

She laughed but said, "Spot on, my dear Lupin!"

_oooo present oooo_

The moon was in the waxing gibbous phase. Brilliant, white light illuminated the furnishings in the shack, casting a familiar warning that the full moon was soon to wake. In years past, this place would have been his harbour for the coming transformation; however, this night, it seemed more eerie than secure.

"Albus, do you believe she's guilty?"

"What I believe, Remus, is that Maria believes herself to be guilty. Neither of us knows what happened that night at Nott Manor. There is only one living person who _does_ know, and she may be so lost in herself that she would rather face imprisonment than rediscover the truth."

* * *

Susan was on her way to Hogsmeade. She had no plans beyond going to the village, at least not this night. It really was a beautiful night, even if this was her least favourite season. The leaves still on the trees were thin and colourful; even in the darkness she could make out the scarlet and ginger flush of the last surviving foliage. It was dark out there, save the moonlight, which bathed the landscape in a cool, white wash.

She told herself that she was hurrying along to stay warm, but it was fear that actually quickened her pace. There was a chance that Snape or Dumbledore or some other inhabitant of the castle was aware she had left and was dogging her tracks.

_Why am I so afraid? If they find me, I'll only have to go back to Hogwarts. This is childish, my running out like this, especially after everything Dumbledore and Remus have done for me._

Irritated with herself, Susan shook her head. The moon came into full view suddenly, sliding out from behind a screen of thin clouds. The sight caused her to stop and stare pensively at the sky. _Remus... How can a rock in outer space touch one's life and fix one's place? The question clouds my mind like lace whenever I search its pallid face._ One last glance, and she was on her way.

* * *

It was far too early to get out of bed. It was Saturday, the day he always slept until nine, a bit of a lie in. The knock on his door aggravated him. Snape closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and pulled the blankets over his head. If he ignored the noise long enough, surely it would stop.

It did not. Flinging the blankets off in a grand, dramatic swoosh, Severus sprang out of bed and marched angrily to the blasted door. He jerked it open and hissed, "What _is_ it?"

The unsympathetic face of Minerva McGonagall greeted the Potions master. "Good morning to you too, Severus," she said flatly. "I came to see if you had finished the--" she looked cautiously about the hallway, "--_Potions project_ for Albus."

_Well, of all the bloody..._ "Could this not have waited a few more hours, Minerva?" Snape grumbled. "Of course I finished the project. I doubt anyone will be able to solve the puzzle I created."

Dumbledore had asked him to devise an obstacle for the course that impeded the path to the Stone--that accursed Stone. Was it merely a coincidence that the Gringotts' vault had been raided almost immediately after the Stone's removal? Any number of seamy characters could be keen on acquiring the precious pebble.

Snape had completed his part of the defences without complaint; however, he _did_ object to being badgered about it at the ungodly hour of six on a Saturday morning. "If that is all…" he said darkly while he began to close the door.

"Er, just one more thing," Minerva huffed. "Hagrid may require your assistance around noon. That darling pet of his can be quite formidable."

"Pet?" Snape snorted. "Menace, is what I would call it. Very well. Good day, Minerva."

He shut the door in his colleague's face and marched to his bathroom. After relieving himself, he took his time washing his face, as that activity always relaxed him. He looked into the mirror, studying the water trickling down his features. Some drops had collected at the tip of his nose warped and pointed nose. It was difficult to look into the mirror and see the object of one's loathing grimacing back.

There were far too many things in life that remained uncertain; far too few were definite. Certainties included breathing, sleeping, eating, and the like. To that list, Snape had added other predictable aspects of his existence, including being highly aggravated and grossly underappreciated by colleagues, students, and the general populations of Europe, Asia, the Austral Realm, North and South America, and certain islands of the South Pacific.

Only when in atypical seclusion was Snape even remotely at ease, though he disturbed himself more than anyone knew except, perhaps, Dumbledore, who seemed to know everything. Severus dried his face, having had his fill of self-pity. On his way back to bed, he decided that what he needed most just now was a night of release.

_oooooooo_

There was a little-known bordello hidden just outside the village of Hogsmeade. Snape had patronised the establishment over the last decade or so. He was realistic; he knew a man such as he was unlikely to attract a woman, and so he was resigned to pay for his pleasures.

"The usual, professor?"

"No, Clara, different tonight," Severus replied.

"Different how?"

"Just do what I tell you."

Tonight, his lady of the evening had been costumed according to his stated desire. The woman now bore an uncanny resemblance to Miss Jones --after a few magical modifications, of course. She proved to be an adequate, if not overwhelming, distraction.

Partially satisfied, in at least two different ways, Severus Snape swung his robe around his shoulders and left the room in search of a stiff drink, possibly more than one. He had the feeling that if he had just had a go with Susan, he would be feeling far more satisfied right now. He could hear sounds from other customers behind the doors he passed on his way out. _Place needs silencing charms,_ Snape thought critically as he descended the stairs and entered the pub section of the establishment.

Sometime later...

"Felling better?" asked the Madam from behind the bar. "Come for a nightcap?"

Severus sat on the stool at the bar and nodded at her.

"You've never request that your gal be dowdy and dull before," she commented, as she poured him a brandy. "Most men like them plump and pretty."

"Spare me the exposition, Annie," Snape said wearily as he sipped his drink. "I should think it bad for your business, such as it is."

"If you want me to expose myself, that'll cost you extra," she huffed.

Snape looked blankly at the woman. "Have you a copy of the _Prophet_?" _Reading might discourage her Madam from talking to me._

"Don't get it regular." Annie bent down and pulled out a stack of flaking, yellowed newspapers. "These are the ones left by people over the years." She placed the pile in front of Snape, leaving him when she went to see to the needs of a wizard who had just entered the pub.

As he sipped his brandy and perused the old news, something extraordinary caught Snape's eye:

_oooo 20 July 1984 oooo_

_The Daily Prophet_

**Two Found Dead at Prominent Family's Mansion**

An unidentified witch was found dead on the grounds of Nott Manor early this morning. Her remains were discovered only hours after the body of Damien Nott, brother of Death Eater Francis Nott, was found decapitated in his bedroom. Maria Santiago, resident at that address, is sought for questioning. Anyone with information about the present location of Maria Santiago is instructed to contact The Ministry of Magic.

Severus slammed his glass on the counter. "I'll be buggered!" he exclaimed.

"Yes you will," purred Annie, as she came up behind him and trailed her hand along his back.

"Not like that, you twit," he snapped.

Jones was in for it now.

* * *

A/N:

I want everyone to know that I have the most marvellous Beta in Fan Fiction. _**S**_, where would I be without you? 

Thanks to LariLee for helping to remove the "seed" from the grapefruit.


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